I have just finished the first week of my second year at the University of Texas and I realized that I never posted a last weekly post on ThinkingMayan. I find myself needing some closure, some final summation of my experiences with weekly writing.
I find myself bored on a Saturday.
For the most part this blog was a selfish endeavor. It was therapy after struggling through a freshman year of college where I lacked motivation and drive. It held me to a higher standard that I had lost dealing with school and, above all, gave me an outlet to express the ill-formed ideas that I jotted in the corners of notebooks. That’s what my Trayvon Martin piece was and that’s how a lot of my best pieces begin. I didn't know who I intended to read the things that I wrote, besides my mother, but I was surprised every time to find people that had read it and appreciated it. People that would text me or tweet me to continue to write which was lovely but never my explicit purpose in writing. I wrote on a weekly basis to remind myself what I do well. I tell stories.
Over the course of this blog I am sure I have often come across as very serious at times. I’m sure this is how I come across in person as well, but I have always wanted nothing more than to be funny. Over the years I have found that there are just two things I could never quite figure out for myself: goofy and sexy. Sarcastic, sure, humorous, at times, pretty, yes, but goofy and sexy are always just out of reach. I have learned through my writing that I can get by without either. Humor is tricky and important and the guiding force in my life. My brother could get a laugh pulling faces or making noises but it was never my nature to be silly; all I’ve ever had is my ability to use words. Goofy doesn’t teach you timing like writing humor does. You can’t throw everything up front and expect people to stick with the story, and you can only rely on the images you create. I also don’t want to imply that I do humor well. I think I’m hilarious as I also think well-timed cursing is hilarious, but my mother would very much disagree. Humor is so subjective. But one of the highlights of ThinkingMayan this summer was writing about my father and his injuries. I had no idea how he would take me writing about him, but I stood sheepishly to his side while he read and was surprised to hear him laugh loudly and hard and repeat the line, “If you have never seen an adult fall, be glad.” For all that my father and I do not understand about each other, we have always had a similar sense of humor. It was humor that often times made me continue to write: the idea of someone reading and laughing was worth the time of writing and editing and, in general, the “Excerpts from my Unwritten Memoir” posts were the most fun to do.
Not every idea was so easily fleshed out. There were several pieces I started that could never really hold water but it was okay. There were also, I’m sure, many lines I took out for fear of offending someone. Some of this I regret. I learned to loosen up quite a bit after the Trayvon Martin essay, after it was received so positively and I was so worried my words would be twisted. I also had to force myself to remain true to my thoughts in my Anniston piece, where I often felt that maybe I could be sweeter or gentler. On the surface of the issue, very few people were actually reading my work and in that sense it didn’t matter if someone was offended, but in a very real sense I felt like I received the response I did because I approached the issue so cautiously and respectfully that my sins were more easily forgiven. I could easily bring in a discussion in reference to life here, but that’s not what this post is so I’ll save it for another week.
At the sum of it, I enjoyed myself. I felt productive this summer. Though it was a selfish start, as I mentioned, I endeavored to entertain my online passerby, to inspire thought and create humor. If even one person got it, then all is not in vain. I will continue to write when the chances appear but this school year ahead looks like it will be giving me a run for my money. And by “my money” I mean “their money” because I gave them all my money in tuition. Special thanks to my mother, editor extraordinaire, and to anyone who has read every post or some posts or one post: you rock.